


Clearing the Air

by VictoriaAGrey



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hurt Rick, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Daryl, Putting clothes on can be as sexy as taking them off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to Clear: 03x12 - Rick comes back to the prison after being stabbed by Morgan and Daryl is pissed. The only thing that's keeping him from running off to kill him is that Rick is hurt and is promising to tell him why he can't kill him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Based on Norman Reedus' accidental prompt on TTD that the reason he recognized Morgan is because Rick has spoken to Daryl previously about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it's been awhile since I've published a Rickyl oneshot. Feel free to let me know if my skills are rusty as hell!

“Start talkin’.”

“Can’t this wait?” Rick asked as he gingerly began unbuttoning his shirt, wincing as he slid the sleeves down his arms.

“No,” Daryl practically snarled at him. “The only reason I’m standin’ here at all is ‘cause ya told me I had ta hear ya out before I go kill the motherfucker.”

Rick’s urge to roll his eyes was forgotten when he took his seat on the cold metal seat Hershel instructed him to sit on and a flash of agony burst out of the stab wound on his upper chest at the movement. He hissed in a breath as he adjusted himself on the chair into a more comfortable position. The fiery ice in Daryl’s eyes melted temporarily at the sight of him in pain, even reaching out a hand in case Rick should need the extra support, but he froze over again the second he was settled.

“Well?”

“Daryl, this can wait until after I stitch him up and get some painkillers in him,” Hershel chastised, not like he was scolding a child, just reminding Daryl that maybe an interrogation would be more effective later. The reprimand seemed to deflate him a bit and he took to biting the skin of his thumb as he watched Hershel examine Rick’s wound.

“Did he move the blade around after he stabbed you?”

“No,” Rick answered as Hershel cleaned the blood off his chest and moved his fingers along the edges of the injury. “Quick in and out.”

“That’s fortunate,” he replied, sounding more than a little relieved. “It’ll heal cleaner that way, but I have ta tell you, it’s deep. You’ll have to take it easy for awhile.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Find a way. You’re lucky to be here at all. Inch lower and he would’ve nicked your heart.”

The second that last word left his lips, Rick knew fireworks were going to fly. “Fuck this shit,” he heard Daryl say under his breath with conviction made of steel as he stormed across the common area and picked up his crossbow from the bottom stair where he’d propped it up against the railing. Calling his name proved to be ineffective, he was in a rage and there was no getting through to him. Once he slammed the entrance door closed, Rick yelled at Michonne and Glenn to intercept him before he could leave, his order serving no real purpose because they were already running after him. Not even a minute passed before he heard the sounds of scuffling, reluctant feet and bellows of protest.

“Best let me go!” Daryl screamed as he was bodily dragged down the stairs and back into the common room by a harried Michonne and Glenn.

“Michonne, you got him from here?”

“Yeah, I got him,” she responded as they forcibly sat him down on the chair across from Rick.

“Good. I’m gonna go hide his crossbow until he’s not a threat to the general public.”

“Fuck you, Glenn!” he yelled after him as he twisted on the seat to escape Michonne’s clutches, but she was too quick. His blunt force wasn’t a match for her skill and he remained firmly planted on the chair.

“Got to me too late, man,” Glenn said with mock sorrow before he opened the door to the courtyard. “Pretty sure Maggie doesn’t share, either.”

Daryl’s sour look at the teasing rebuke was enough to make Rick forget the pain in his chest and laugh, immediately regretting it as pain sparked along his nerve endings. The sound seemed to startle Daryl though and he stopped his wiggling long enough to look at Rick in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Rick apologized without actually meaning it. “I shouldn’t be laughin’ but your face was priceless.”

“Yeah, people usually ain’t laughin’ after they get stabbed by some psycho.”

This time Rick did roll his eyes and with a nod to Michonne, she let Daryl go. He knew he was still keyed up and ready to make a run for it if need be, but for now he was harmless.

“Let’s try this again.”

“Start talkin’. I ain’t waitin’ no longer.”

“Alright,” he said both in confirmation to Daryl and as a go ahead for Hershel to start stitching him up. The moment he felt the needle pierce his skin, he turned to Daryl to distract himself. “He’s not sane. He didn’t know what he was doin’.”

“That’s even more reason for me ta go take care of him.”

“No,” Rick firmly insisted, pain adding a splintered quality to his voice. “He just wants to keep to himself. He ain’t goin’ out and killin’ people. He just felt, I don’t know, threatened.”

“He stabbed ya.”

“We entered his territory without permission and knocked him out. Morgan was just doin’ what he needed ta do. What we’d do.”

Daryl scoffed at hearing his name. “Morgan. Ya stuck around an’ got his name? Have a tea party, too? Watch a movie?”

“No, I know him – well, knew him.”

“From Before?”

“No, aft- fuck!” he yelped as the needle sewed the skin together. Looking down, he saw Hershel was only a third of the way through. Without seeing him approach - he was too engrossed in the jagged shards of pain shooting through him - Daryl knelt down before him and held out his arm. Not even needing an explanation, it was written across his concerned eyes, Rick slotted his forearm along his and wrapped his fingers around his elbow, his thumb digging into the crook of his arm. Shooting him a look that he hoped conveyed all of his gratitude, he continued his story.

“Morgan was the first person I met after I woke up from my coma. I was outta my mind, cryin’ on my lawn thinkin’ my family was dead when he found me. Him and his son, Duane, took me in and fed me. Changed my bandages. I left him because I had to keep lookin’ for my family and he needed to teach Duane how to use a gun. I left him with one of my and Shane’s old walkie talkies, me takin’ the other, but I never heard from him. Until today.” Squeezing Daryl’s forearm and looking him in the eyes to captivate every shred of attention he possessed, he whispered, “Daryl, the man I saw today is not the Morgan I know. He’s insane.”

“Ain’t we all at this point?”

Chuckling with no mirth, Rick shook his head. “Not like that. I think he’s too far gone. I wanted to bring him here, hopin’ some safety would help him, but he said no.”

“Can’t help a man that don’t want no help.”

“Prolly for the best he didn’t encounter you, at any rate.”

Both laughed at the jab, a chortle from Hershel chiming with their laughs, and Rick felt Hershel pat his leg before he grabbed his crutches and stood up. “You’re good to go, and please do like I said. Take it easy on that arm for awhile.”

“Thank you, Hershel.”

Examining his chest, Rick was surprised to see that not only had Hershel finished his stitches, but dressed the wound as well. All without Rick noticing a thing. A smile pulled at his lips as he thought about how Daryl was enchanting enough to distract him so totally and completely without even trying. Picking up the clean shirt Beth had brought him, he tried to think of a way to pull on the garment with as little movement as possible when it was snatched out of his hand.

“Bunch yer fingers together so all the tips are touchin’.”

Obeying the order without question, Rick waited for his next instruction from Daryl as he moved behind him, his presence and movements as known to him as if he were watching him. A gentle nudge by Daryl’s fingers on his hand let him know to look down and when he did, he saw the fabric of his shirt’s arm gathered in his hands. Keeping the tips of his fingers together, he watched Daryl roll the fabric up his arm, making it so he never had to move his arm. Once the whole sleeve was on, he pulled the material across his back, running his hand along the top of his back in a way that sent shivers through him, and held the sleeve out so Rick could put his arm through it since it wasn’t the arm on his bad side.

Daryl then moved in front of him and lifted his wrists, Rick keeping them suspended in the air as he watched him button the cuffs. Normally he would protest such attention, but there was something different about this, about Daryl doing it. He didn’t make it seem like it was a chore, or even like he felt obligated to do it. The look on his face was nothing short of reverent and it made Rick feel warm, warm in a way that he hadn’t felt since Lori had stopped doing sweet little favors for him years ago. Daryl’s deft fingers then began buttoning up the front of his shirt and a part of him that was getting gradually louder liked how close Daryl’s hands were to his chest.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Rick intoned so quietly he barely heard it himself.

With his fingers finishing the fourth button from the top, Daryl froze and looked up into Rick’s eyes. They were a lot closer than both seemed to realize seconds before, but understood now. The little flecks of gold in Daryl’s eyes shined brightly in the light flooding in through the bar covered windows, making every detail about him shine like a star going nova. There was also fear trickling in his eyes, like droplets of water sliding down an icicle, but there were warm emotions, tender ones there that Rick couldn’t name because he was pretty sure they’d never been directed at him before. God, what he’d give to know what Daryl was thinking, or what he saw when he looked at him.

“I, um,” Daryl stuttered as he finished the button and dropped his hands, immediately embedding one in his long hair to scratch at the back of his skull. “Just, you know, if ya need me ta do your shirt again just come an’ get me.”

“Thank you, Daryl,” he said with complete earnestness.

He grunted something unintelligible back at him before he walked away leaving Rick warm with untold emotions and his chest inexplicably clinched in knots. Rick couldn’t claim to know what he was feeling at that moment, but he knew that he would do anything to see that look in Daryl’s eyes again, like no one else existed, at least for that split second in time. Maybe the new crossbow he got for him would do the trick, and the thought made him smile.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to let me know what you think here in the comments or at my Tumblr, [mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed your read!


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